


Teacakes

by tiger_moran



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (Downey films), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Finger Sucking, Fluff, Food, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-31
Updated: 2015-10-31
Packaged: 2018-04-29 06:25:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5118503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiger_moran/pseuds/tiger_moran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Moran returns home from running errands for Moriarty to find the professor taking afternoon tea without him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacakes

**Author's Note:**

> A random little piece of domestic fluff inspired purely by me having toasted teacakes for the first time in many months last week. Of course a little bit of hand kink crept in there too, just because.

    Moran’s return home sees him entering into the sitting room in time to find Moriarty indulging in afternoon tea.

     “Nice of you to wait for me,” the colonel remarks wryly, more though with a kind of irritated amusement than real annoyance.

     “I had no idea how long you would be,” Moriarty points out in a mild tone, not troubling to look up from the newspaper draped across his lap.

     “It’d still have been nice of you to wait.” Moran slips a hand inside his jacket, pulling out a folded piece of paper which he holds out to the professor. “Me out there freezing my arse off, acting like your errand boy.”

     “ _Trusted messenger_ ,” Moriarty corrects Moran as he sets his plate down. He dabs his fingers delicately with a napkin before taking the paper from Moran.

    “Whilst you sit here in the warm, drinking hot tea and stuffing your face with-” Moran glances at the plate set next to the professor. “Toasted teacakes.”

     “Mm,” Moriarty says in apparent agreement to this, seemingly choosing to ignore Moran’s less-than-serious remarks about his eating habits as he reads the message. “Burn it, please,” he says presently, refolding the paper and holding it back out to Moran.

     “It is as you wished?” Moran takes the paper from him, loosely screws it up and tosses it into the fireplace. At once the flames take hold of it and begin to blacken and devour the formerly white paper, though for good measure Moran seizes the poker and prods the note more firmly into the heart of the fire.

     “Precisely as I wished.” A brief smile crosses Moriarty’s face as he folds his newspaper up and puts it aside, before he takes up his plate again. “Come here.” He pats the space on the sofa beside him with his free hand.

    Setting the poker back down, Moran turns and eyes him with a degree of wariness momentarily. “You ain’t gonna make me go out into the cold again today?”

     “I am not.” Moriarty picks up his half-eaten buttered teacake again.

     Reassured by this, Moran slinks over and seems to be about to sit next to the professor. Instead at the last instant he slides over to straddle Moriarty’s lap, ending up sitting face to face with him.

     Instead of protesting this move, Moriarty watches Moran with interest and a faint smile touching his lips again, showing too in his usually cool blue-grey eyes. He still holds the toasted teacake off to one side, presently seemingly more interested by Moran’s behaviour than in eating the rest of it.

    Moran leans forward, a smirk on his face, as if he intends to kiss the professor upon the lips. But instead he swiftly leans across and takes a large bite out of the toasted teacake.

     “My dear Moran, you are a most infuriating man at times,” Moriarty murmurs in mock disapproval.

      Moran grins, closed-mouthed, as he chews his purloined food. Straightening up, he slips one hand onto Moriarty’s shoulder, sliding it around the back of his neck and letting it rest there. His gaze is fixed on the professor’s, amusement showing in his deep-set eyes, before the slight movement of Moriarty’s hand draws his attention off to the side.

     Moriarty holds the remainder of the teacake up to Moran’s lips, this time freely permitting him to take another bite. Moran inclines his head so that his gaze meets Moriarty’s again as he does so. Only after he has chewed and swallowed this second mouthful of the sweet, fruited bun does he drop his gaze downwards, and he laughs.

     “What is so amusing, hmm?” Moriarty enquires softly, before taking another bite of toasted teacake himself.

    “Nothing, just…” Moran lifts his gaze to meet Moriarty’s again, still grinning. “You, me, _us_ , being so…”

     “Domestic?” Moriarty says. As Moran opens his mouth to answer this Moriarty promptly pops the last bite of teacake into it, taking Moran rather by surprise. Moriarty though is about to withdraw his hand when the colonel seizes it.

     Quickly chewing and gulping down the piece of teacake, Moran gently cradles the professor’s hand in his as he inclines his head to wrap his lips around Moriarty’s first finger. He very gently rubs his tongue against the pad of Moriarty’s finger, licking away a smear of butter, before slowly drawing his head back. “It’s hardly proper,” he says, smirking slightly still. “I mean… it’s hardly _fitting_ , for us. Holmes and his pet doctor think us the villains of the piece.”

    “So, what?” Moriarty queries with a faint smirk of his own. “As the villain I am not permitted to enjoy taking afternoon tea?” He reaches up and brushes a crumb from Moran’s beard.

     Moran grins more broadly. “’fraid not, Professor. You should be drinking the blood of murdered virgin girls.”

     “Ah, I see.”

     “And instead of toasted teacakes you should be eating sweets you snatched practically out of the mouths of poor little orphans.”

     “Of course.” Moriarty, still smiling, closes his eyes. “I shall have to arrange that imminently. I would not want our dear drug-addled detective to think that I had gone soft, after all. In the mean time…” He opens his eyes again, looking up at Moran as he slips his hand around the back of Moran’s head and pulls him forward. “This will do as a prelude to my other further acts of depraved wickedness.” He presses his lips to Moran’s in a soft kiss, one so sweet and lingering that Moran cannot help but close his eyes to savour it further. “Is that immoral enough for you, Sebastian?” Moriarty enquires after a moment, leaving his hand cupping the back of Moran’s head.

     Moran opens his eyes and swallows thickly. His voice sounds a little hoarse when he speaks again. “I don’t know, sir, I reckon it could do with a touch more depravity.”

    “Indeed.” Moriarty yanks Moran into a rougher kiss this time, with lips parted – a kiss which Moran accepts and embraces just as eagerly as the first. “Better?” he queries at last.

    “I, ah…” Moran pulls back, slightly breathless, laughing. “Yes sir.”

     “Good.” As Moran slips from his lap to sit beside him, Moriarty leans over and picks up his china tea cup. Upon sipping it though he presses his lips into a moue of faint revulsion. “I’m afraid that whilst we were indulging in all that depravity my tea has gone cold. Ring for the maid, would you, and have her bring up a fresh pot.” Moriarty sets his cup down and picks up his newspaper, snapping it open again.

     “Right sir.” Moran stands up, moving to ring the bell.

     “Oh and Moran…” Moriarty has directed his gaze back to his newspaper and still does not look up again. “I do not think I am in the mood for going out and stealing sweeties from children, so perhaps you might also request a couple more toasted teacakes?”

     Moran laughs as he gives the bell-pull a sharp tug, still amused by the strange domesticity of all of this – a life he once would never have thought himself capable of living, or enjoying. “Yes sir,” he says.


End file.
